We'll Walk Out of Hell Together, Hawkeye
by marinefollese
Summary: Royai 100. Takes place during the restoration of Ishbal. The story will have multiple arcs. Chapter five: feigning sleep- She opened her big, sad eyes, and looked at him. He could still see the visible tear streaks on her face. She leapt into his arms and buried her face into the crook of his neck, her body visibly shaking with sobs.
1. promise (prologue)

**A/N: Hi. This is my first attempt at a Royai, so I decided to do the Royai 100. This is the prologue, the chapters will subsequently be put in arcs. **

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**theme 010- promise**

**word count- 816**

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The Ishbal war of extermination is where it all went wrong.

Mustang had to give up his naïve ideals of being a soldier.

Hawkeye gave up her innocence, tainted by the blood she spilled.

They never were the same again.

They wanted to change the country for the better.

He would see to it. She would see to it too. Through him.

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This was the basis of their professional relationship; a loyal subordinate following her superior for he had a worthy dream; his ambition was hers. He wanted to become the Fuhrer and change the country. She wanted him to become the Fuhrer and change the country through him.

Their private relations were of a much different nature. She entrusted her father's biggest secret; a very destructive alchemy, a secret etched onto her back. She trusted him with her back, and so he trusted him with hers. It was equivalent exchange, the fundamentals of all alchemy. Alchemy was the way they met and forever entwined into each other's lives.

He was her father's apprentice, with an insatiable thirst for knowledge. She was the little girl that kept the three of them alive with her domestic talents. That was how they started off. But along the course of time, they became friends.

He showed her that there was more to life than cooking, cleaning and studying. She showed him that there was more to life than alchemy.

It was a wonderful life of explorations through the fields, and blanket forts and hot cocoa with marshmallows. Of storytelling that went into the wee hours of the morning and laughter that echoed throughout the manor destitute of joy.

Everything they knew changed when he left for the military, with the hope to change the nation. He left the manor with naïve dreams and when he returned, he promptly got told off by his master. He was already a decent alchemist, but not good enough to fit state qualifications. He needed flame alchemy for that.

His master was dying, he could see. A small amount of pity overtook him as he tried to convince his master of joining the state alchemist program. He also wanted the secrets to flame alchemy, to qualify as a state alchemist. He was so close to his childhood dream.

How fitting was it that Master Hawkeye passed away on that very night?

It was at his funeral when he revealed his dreams to Riza, that she knew he was the right one to study flame alchemy. He was the one to entrust.

He was shocked to say the least when he found his master's way of concealing his work. For once in his life, his curiosity was outweighed by something else. He felt angry, guilty and stupid. How could that man use his daughter like that? How could he be so blind to not see what was really going on in the Hawkeye household? How could he believe that alchemy was the solution to everything?

She insisted he learn it, and he did.

His learning, it would seem, to not cease at mastering flame alchemy.

First he would get his reality handed back to him on a silver platter in Ishbal, murdering countless innocents in war that should not have happened. Then, when he saw Hawkeye out in Ishbal, he was hit with a staggering force of his guilt. Sharing his dreams with her seemed inviting enough to join the military and be sent out to this horrid place. Using something she entrusted to him and him_ only_ for extermination of the innocents. When she asked him to burn the tattoo of her back, he was hit with _everything_ all at once.

That was the final straw for him.

He no longer wanted to change the nation, he needed to. He would not rest until he did. When Hawkeye promised to protect and follow him at all costs, it seemed that Riza had grown up. While her promise to protect him was vocalized, his was a silent vow to himself. He would protect her. Not because he was returning the favour, but because this was Riza Hawkeye; the most important person in his life. He needed her and he was a selfish man.

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The long battle against the homunculi and Father only seemed to prove their significance to each other. She had been overcome with grief when she thought she was dead. He was in emotional agony when she was transferred out of his command. He was in so much rage when she was used against him. He never doubted her significance before, and this was just more proof for him.

When the aftermath of the Promised Day was gone, he made her a new promise. They would restore Ishbal before he became the Fuhrer. They would atone for their sins the best way possible.

They would bring the promise of a new day.

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**please tell me what you think. read and review please. much appreciated:)**


	2. scars ( arc 1-1)

**A/N: I'm not very happy with this one, but i felt it was necessary to start of arc one. thanks for the follows and reviews. I'm working on the next one now. **

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**ARC ONE- THE PROMISE OF TOMORROW**

**theme 017- scars**

**word count-550**

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Roy Mustang settled himself in the armchair, ready for another game of chess with the now Fuhrer Grumman.

"So, Mustang, how's life treating you now?" Asked Grumman jovially.

"Well, sir, my lieutenant is keeping me on par with my increasing load of paperwork. Other than that, nothing has changed." He chuckled.

Grumman gave a knowing smile. "I heard that you've been researching Ishbal."

"Yes, sir, I have. I've been researching it long before the whole Promised Day fiasco. In fact, sir, I've been meaning to ask you, would it be possible to assign my team the task of restoring Ishbal? I think it's a necessary step in the right direction to improve Amestris. Besides, sir, what better time to start than now? We're living in an era of peace, sir, under a good leadership." Mustang added, while advancing forward on the board. The last part was light teasing on his end. Grumman and he were more friends than superior and subordinate.

"Very well then! I've actually been meaning to ask you what you intend to do about Ishbal. It's a good thing-Check! - that you saved an old man unnecessary trouble. I expect you'll do great things, Mustang!"

"Thank you, sir. I shall inform my team of the good news."

"Well done. Checkmate! I won again! You should take the chess set. It might be a long while before we can play again, and you'll need the practice. I heard Lieutenant Breda is pretty proficient in the game himself."

"He is, sir. Thank you for all your help, Fuhrer Grumman, sir!" Roy saluted and headed back to his own office, chess set in tow.

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"Men, pack your things! We're going to Ishbal!" Roy used a similar line before, when he was transferred to central with his subordinates.

"Sir!" They saluted.

Later that evening, as they were all getting ready to leave for the night, Hawkeye went up to Mustang.

"So, sir, you're going to restore Ishbal? I must say I'm very pleased that I could be a part of such a project. Thank you, sir."

She truly was grateful. They had gained a lot of scars over the years, many of which were from Ishbal. She felt a great amount of guilt for what she had done to the Ishbalan innocents and felt that restoring the broken land would ease away the guilt in her conscience and heal some of the scars in her heart.

"Not just me Hawkeye. _All of us are. _Anyway, you're welcome. I know how hard Ishbal was on us, so it was best if the two of us could go and make amends. Eases the guilt a little, huh?"

"Yes, sir. I feel a little lighter now."

"Me too, Hawkeye."

"Woah, woah, clear up the mushy love fest over here!" yelled Havoc who had been eavesdropping.

Mustang shot him a glare while Hawkeye just smiled at the childish antics of her subordinates.

She cleaned up her desk before bidding everyone goodnight.

'Maybe I can finally rest easy tonight. I can finally wash away all the blood on my hands and heal the scars in my heart."

She smiled for the second time that night, in appreciation for the colonel's understanding.

She could now atone for her sins.

'_I can now atone for my sins.'_

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**please read and review, thank you, very much. :)**


	3. battlefield (arc 1)

**A/N: I'm a little happier with this one. I hope you enjoy it. **

**They finally are in Ishbal, and the story will pick up, I promise. **

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**theme 003- battlefield**

**word count- 721**

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They are on the battlefield.

The air is dry, the heat is sweltering.

There is acrid smoke everywhere; from bombs and from alchemical explosions.

There is a cry of desperation from the innocents.

_No, please! I have a daughter! _

_My family needs me!_

_You can't plea-_

It just adds to the chaotic symphony that is Ishbal.

There are few who thrive on it.

Some want to go home.

Most just want to _die._

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They were back on the battlefield again.

The air is dry, the heat is sweltering.

There is a sign of a slowly thriving people everywhere, Ishbalans making the most of turning the ruins of their holy land into their home once again.

Every now and then, there is a cry from a baby, a sign of new life.

As they walk through the ruins to their designated camp ground, they get many stares and whispers are spread from person to person.

_What are Amestrian soldiers doing here?_

_Have they come to interrupt our peace?_

_If need be, I _will_ fight to keep them out._

_Do those monsters think they are welcome here?_

_Isn't that the Flame Alchemist and Hawk's Eye?_

_Those are monsters. They shouldn't be here. Get out!_

"Hush, all of you. These officers of the military are here to help us. They are going to restore the holy lands." Madam Sharn, a respected elder, tells them.

"I am Colonel Roy Mustang. My team, First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye, Second Lieutenants Heymans Breda, Jean Havoc and Vato Falman and Master Sergeant Kain Fuery, are here to aid in restoration efforts towards the Ishbalan holy lands, if you will accept our help. We know what we did was wrong and we want to atone for our sins. If Amestris were to truly progress, we cannot do so without righting our wrongs. The Ishbalan Civil War was more like a genocide and was an utter disgrace on Amestris. I would personally like to apologize for all the pain that I've caused. We would be honoured if you let us work together with you to fix Ishbal into the thriving place it once is."

Roy Mustang is not the picture perfect soldier during his speech. He is shaky and nervous, but still manages to exude a sort of confidence that is a driving factor of his ambitions to better Ishbal.

The people of Ishbal look hesitant to accept the help of an Amestrian. However, one look from Madam Sharn changes all that. She smiles at the team, like a proud mother would at their child.

Something ignites within the Ishbalan's spirit. The crowd that has gathered erupts into cheers, encouraging the group.

Mustang and his team break out into sincere smiles.

"Thank you! We will restore Ishbal to its former glory." Mustang says confidently, with a steel resolve.

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They are the first ones to arrive in Ishbal. While a six-man team can lead the efforts, a lot of manpower is needed to actually carry them out. While the Ishbalans certainly have the manpower to do so, Amestris brings in the manpower as a show of effort towards the restoration.

They set up camp, with only Mustang and Hawkeye used to the desert conditions.

The grounds are spacious, entitling each to a tent.

As Mustang sits outside his tent watching the desert sun descend, he goes over the events of the day. His new goal is finally being put in motion.

"Sir," He hears Hawkeye approach him. He smiles at her.

"Hawkeye. Wanna join me and watch the sunset?" He invites, already knowing the answer. He pats the ground next to him and she sits down.

"Sir, I'm proud of you. Speaking out there must have been tough. But I know you have the Ishbalan's best interests at heart." She praises causing him to beam with pride.

"Thanks, Riza. It means a lot to me," He savours the sound of her name on his tongue. He hasn't said her name in years and he revels in the warm feeling that spreads throughout his body that only increases when she smiles at him.

Her response it to lean her head on his shoulder. He snakes his arm around her waist. Together, they watch the sunset.

'_Yes, we are on the battlefield. But now, we are fighting for the promise of a better tomorrow.'_


	4. murderer' (arc 2-1)

**A/N: Long time no see- hehe. Gong xi fa cai, happy cny peoples!**

**and so we begin a new arc, of the start of their Ishbalan journey**

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**theme 020- 'murderer'**

**word count- 355**

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The sun rises in Ishbalan desert, painting the landscape with its orange-yellow glow. The desert hasn't reached its peak temperature yet, smothering the are in a comforting warmth, rather than a suffocating heat, which Ishbal was famous for.

Roy blinks at the roof of his tent. It is quite spacious; he is after all, a higher-ranking officer. After ten years, he once again wakes up to the roof of a tent, but this time after a good night's rest, instead of a fitful sleep where he relives the horrors of the day.

He gets up and stretches, shaking the last vestige of sleep off his bones. He lifts the tent flap, only to be greeted by the sight of the rising desert sun, burning like an inferno, a thousand different colours swathed together, encompassed by an orange glow.

He walks around the camp, noting more tents already pitched; more Amestrians have arrived.

He sits on a cliff, dangling his legs off the edge, as he examines some of the sand, a senseless task.

As he picks up a clump of sand, he feels something hard. Upon closer examination, he realises that it is a bullet. The realisation sends a wave of nausea through him. It's funny how one bullet could affect him so, when he was a military man and worked closely with a sniper, and firearms expert.

"Sir?"

Ah, amazing how uncanny her timing is. Whenever she is on his mind, she somehow finds a way to materialize in front of him.

"Yes, Hawkeye. I was just examining the sand. I chanced upon a bullet. I don't think we can ever escape from the aftermath of the genocide."

"Afraid so, sir. Let me see the bullet."

She takes the bullet in her hand, scrutinizing it. She gasps, before turning her head in shame.

Roy picks up on her sudden discomfort.

"It's your bullet isn't it?" He asks softly, slinging an arm around her shoulder, in hopes of comforting her.

She nods weakly ducks her head in shame.

He can tell what she's thinking without even having to look in her expressive brown eyes.

_Murderer. _


	5. feigning sleep (arc 2-2)

Hawkeye had been silent the whole day. While she was not the most vocal in the group, by her nature, she easily expressed herself through her actions. A slight smile and Mustang would know that his lieutenant was happy, a grin (which was especially infectious if you were Roy Mustang) showed him that she was elated, a slight frown or a slump of her shoulders would usually twist his heart, especially the latter, because he knew that a slump of her shoulders was the equivalent to crying of other women.

However, only Mustang could pick up on this. He knew Riza Hawkeye like he knew his alchemic array, quite literally, like the back of his hand.

So as he and Breda took turns to explain their plan of action to the people around, considering that he was heading the project and Breda was the best speaker out of his subordinates, Hawkeye looked on blankly like the perfect soldier.

He knew that when Hawkeye went into perfect soldier mode, she was hiding something; it was her way of drawing a barrier around herself, in attempt to maintain seclusion.

But when he looked into her eyes, they were a dull brown, instead of an electrifying coffee. As though he had gone cold turkey, he missed the caffeine-like jolt he would get from looking into her eyes.

He made up his mind then and there, to confront her about it later that day.

He cornered her as she was about to retire into her tent for the night.

"You're not OK. Talk." He said simply. She was a simple woman after all.

"I-sir, it's just that I- I feel guilty."

"Guilty? This is about that bullet we saw in the morning, isn't it?"

Recognition dawned in her eyes as she slowly nodded.

"We've all done things we're not proud of, me especially. I saw some of the buildings, y'know? The ones I so destructively _burnt._"

"But how do you deal with it sir? It was hard, no, to see all those scorched buildings?"

"Yeah, but I reminded myself why we're here. We're here to fix this place."

"Thank you, sir. I understand."

She was always so formal; her formality leaving the conversation in an awkward place. At an unusual loss of what to do, he just squeezed her shoulder before murmuring, "Goodnight, Riza."

He tossed and turned throughout the night. He had a gut feeling that something was wrong. He decided to check up on Hawkeye.

As he approached her tent, he heard sounds like a woman sobbing.

"Hawkeye?" he called shakily.

He heard a gasp, before he saw a shadow scramble back on to the cot.

His suspicions were right. Something _was_ wrong.

"Hawkeye- Riza, I'm coming in."

He entered the tent and saw her lying on her cot, feigning sleep.

"I know something's wrong."

He used his soft, caring voice that he usually used around her when they were alone.

She opened her big, sad eyes, and looked at him. He could still see the visible tear streaks on her face. She leapt into his arms and buried her face into the crook of his neck, her body visibly shaking with sobs.

It tore him apart to see her like this, but, all he could do was hold her tighter, in hopes of dispelling her troubles.


End file.
